No time ticks across glassy waters, each memory reflects, yet none remain the same.
Clouds weave whispers through ermine skies, yet none hear them but mirrored echos.
Fingers play symphonies on rain-dusted wings; the ripples sing homeward.
Blink, and the constellations realign—grasp ether and forget the fallen fractals.
Children etch footsteps on clouds—loosed kites carved through the lunar trance.
A happy surrender to the nocturne cloud echo faint gleeful shadows.